Skjebne
Tony has been an atheist for as long as he can remember.
Okay, maybe he was more of an agnostic towards the end - kind of hard not to believe in something after you meet a demigod. But, even then, he never believed in any kind of afterlife. After death comes...nothing. No pearly gates, no holy damnation, no sitting in purgatory with eternal elevator music. Nothing. Peace and quiet. Silence.
So, why is it so fucking loud?!
His eyes are forced open by the teeth-rattling force of Hulk's roar. A gasp rips itself from his throat, followed by several more as he rushes to get air into his lungs. His former teammates stand over him with stunned faces, and for a wild moment Tony thinks this must be his own little corner of hell.
But then, Rogers sits back on his haunches and grins, looking relieved and proud and way, way too young. Romanoff leans over to catch Tony’s eye, a fond smile on her face that hasn’t been directed at him in months. A quick glance around reveals the wreckage of Manhattan, flipped cars and shattered glass exactly where he remembers them being a little over four years ago.
“What the fuck?” Someone, probably Barton, cackles at the hysterical edge in his voice as he lifts himself onto his elbows, body going slightly numb from shock. “We won,” The captain tells him with all the sincerity in the world. He’s still grinning down at Tony, like they’re brothers in arms instead of enemies at war. Because, dumbass, a very faint voice in his mind points out, you’re not enemies yet. He latches onto that little voice and forces himself to ignore the dread that's been clawing at him like a vicious beast, accepting the hand that's offered to him with a strained thanks, Cap. Thor reminds them that they're not finished yet, and Tony barely manages to stifle a relieved sigh as he lets his plastic smile drop into a grimace. The sudden surge of deja vu is nauseating.
Maybe this is Hell.
They walk back to the tower in silence. Several pairs of eyes burn into the back of the engineer's head, no doubt wondering why he isn’t offering up his usual chirpy, nerve-grating banter. He can’t exactly tell them that he’s two seconds away from having a fully-fledged existential crisis, so he fakes a yawn and keeps his mouth shut. His eyes stay locked on the road ahead, even when Rogers - Steve turns like he wants to say something. Even when Clint does say something, griping about his aching back and wondering if anywhere will be open for dinner later. A conversation builds from there, and a part of him desperately wants to join in, to rebuild the friendships he lost (whether in another life, or in a future that won’t come to be, he isn’t quite sure.)
But then Natasha asks Bruce a question about the aliens’ tech, a carefully placed opening for Tony to jump in with the answer, and the soft-hearted urge dies. It’s a small, yet vicious reminder that he was never really their friend. He was an engineer and a piggy bank and a scapegoat and everything under the sun, except for a friend.
Tony Stark, not recommended.
He shoves the anger and hurt to the back of his mind, right next to the swirling mass of dread and confusion about not being dead, and locks them away to deal with when he’s alone. When he can have a breakdown in peace, without the judgemental looks and put-upon sighs of “ there there, Tony” that he was offered after realizing that his firstborn was dead.
Except, Jarvis isn't dead. The realization that his AI, his baby, is alive hits him like a sucker punch. He stumbles mid-step and Steve reaches for him, the picture of worry. Instinctively, Tony jerks back, though he’s sure it looks like another staggered step, and Steve is coming closer, coming closer with the shield that’s shining Maximoff red and tesseract blue, move you idiot, he’s coming closer -
Thor is suddenly between them, steadying the brunette with surprisingly gentle hands and a deep frown. There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it flash of something in the grey eyes locked on his, indecipherable in the split second that it’s seen. “You require assistance.” It’s not a question, and Tony doesn't have time to brush the concern off off before an arm curls around his midsection, forcing him to lean practically all of his weight onto the god's side. He opens his mouth to protest, and maybe make a suggestive comment about being manhandled, but Thor chooses that moment to start walking again, and all that escapes him is a hissed curse.
"Guess I hit the ground harder than I thought," he mumbles as he's half-dragged, half-carried towards the tower's entrance, silently counting Thor's steps as they get closer. Bracing himself for impending onslaught of emotions. Focusing all the remaining energy he has into not falling apart when they pass through the sliding doors.
"Welcome back, Sir."